


Unreasonable

by theriverisred



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: M/M, and when damen gives blow jobs, i just like it when laurent is insecure, it's all fun and blow jobs, questionable characterization, questionable setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:56:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9366953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theriverisred/pseuds/theriverisred
Summary: Laurent doesn't think he makes Damen happy.





	

He dropped his fingers to his lover’s nipple, to his ribcage, to his abdomen, to the seam of hardly fastened pants. His lover’s hand, elegant and white, stopped him. Damen saw that it didn’t shake.

“You can’t,” Laurent said.

Damen looked at him without a bit of exasperation. He wasn’t mad, but that just made Laurent want to get out from under his arms even more. Damen didn’t stop him. Laurent shoved himself into that place where he couldn’t see anything but his frustration, distended from him like a cloud. He wasn’t angry at Damen, obviously, but Damen wasn’t making the situation easy, and he, and Damen--

“Quit being unreasonable!” he snapped when he had gotten off the bed and re-tied his pants.

\--Damen didn’t even know how difficult he was!

“I’m sorry, Laurent.” Laurent finally actually looked at Damen, sucking away the cloud for as soon as he was alone. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have--would you like me to leave?”

Laurent caught himself in a mirror behind Damen. His hair was unbraided. His shirt was somewhere on the other side of him and his nipples were pinker than they should be. Laurent--lost again, in curiosity, now--touched one of them.

“Laurent…”

He swallowed and fisted his hand near his chest. “Damen, you--Damen, look at me!”

“I love you.” Damn if he wasn’t going to pay for that. He meant to tell Laurent he was beautiful, or perfect, and he had just...well, he was an idiot for never learning to control himself in all his time as a slave.

Laurent actually looked distressed. “Damen,” he groaned. He fisted bunches of his hair and turned away from the bed. “We haven’t had sex in a week.”

Damen didn’t move. “That’s--what does that mean?”

Laurent walked to the window. He wished he had his shirt on. He wished Damen had clothes, too. No, no, he didn’t want that: Damen never had clothes as his slave. It was so easy.

“Get my shirt.” And of course Damen stood, and found the shirt, and brought it to Laurent, who didn’t turn around, but held his palm out. Damen saw that it didn’t shake. After dressing him, Damen watched Laurent leave.

Outside the door, Laurent’s boots held fast on the stone. Even if he walked away now, he would be helplessly back tomorrow, or the day after, or a month after--Damen, that ass, only Damen himself could keep Laurent away, just as only Laurent could keep Damen from him.

It was like Damen’s air of disclosure from before infected Laurent, and he turned around and opened the door.

“Sex with you, Damen--I can’t do that.”

He opened his eyes. Damen wasn’t on the bed.

“Laurent,” and the voice came from the desk, where Damen had re-settled with papers and ink and a chiton, “I wouldn’t touch you or...look at you without your consent and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I--”

“Damen, I can’t have sex with you because I can’t have sex. I can’t--” he swallowed, “have what you want. Do what you want. Haven’t you seen that? I push you away, I tell you to stop, I--can’t you find someone else?”

His eyes, that had remained open this time, realized that Damen looked sick. “Are you--”

Then, somehow, it was Damen who fled the room that night.

***

He chased his words the way Damen might have gone and chased griva with Nikandros that night. Why had he left? And then: he didn’t deserve to wonder why, or to mind it. He had gotten what he wanted. Damen left him alone.

***

A week, and Damen hadn’t taken any lovers. Together, on their thrones, Laurent, without moving his head, said, “You haven’t been to see me.”

Damen turned full angle and apologized to his king for ever intruding in the first place.

“I wish,” Laurent replied after a moment, “I could have satisfied you. I tried.”

At that, Damen stood and left the room--again--but Laurent followed. They went to a terrace, and after stepping outside, Laurent locked the door behind them. Damen set aside his cape and his crown. He looked remarkably as he had looked in Vere, and Laurent’s stomach--without asking Laurent about it--spun.

“I wish I could have been--Damen, I wish I could be good like you. I want to make you happy. I want to make you--” he looked aside. “I wasn’t good enough for you, Damen, and you wouldn’t admit it, and I--”

Why was Damen on his knees?

Damen bent, further, until his lips found the boots he should have despised. “Laurent,” he said softly, with his head still lowered, “I am your slave. No matter where you want me to be, or what you want me to do.”

Laurent was glad he had locked the door.

Damen slowly lifted his head without raising his eyes. “I’ll not take another lover, you know. I am yours, to have or not.”

Laurent fell beside him. “But I can’t make you happy, Damen.”

Damen’s hand carefully came to Laurent’s clothed forearm. “Do you,” he paused, “want me?”

“Yes,” he whispered. Damen saw his hand shake. 

Damen’s hand met at the laces by Laurent’s wrist. “Tell me,” he said as he brought the laces to his teeth, “exactly what you want.”

Laurent’s breath, stuttering, wanted to apologize. Laurent still wanted Damen to forget him. He should be happy. But the way his breath felt on his wrists, Laurent couldn’t--he just couldn’t-- “Kiss me.”

Damen, holding the one white hand in both of his, grazed his lips on the palm. He closed his eyes, like his lips could weld into Laurent’s hand with enough love.

“No, Damen. Kiss me.”

Damen curled a hand over Laurent’s braid, tucked fingers under his jaw, and carefully met Laurent’s mouth. He felt Laurent’s pulse. It was fast.

Laurent pulled away. He stood to untie his laces, quickly, and pull off his shirt. He intended to get to Damen, to take away his chiton and try to make him happy. He wanted to make him--  
He had not anticipated Damen standing up and sliding his hands over his stomach. He didn’t think Damen would kneel, again, and kiss where his hands were. And Damen kissed his lover’s stomach, and touched the seam of his tightly fastened pants.

“Laurent, can I?” His lips sucked his left hip.

“Can you do what? Do you want me to--”

“I want to have you in my mouth,” Damen sighed, and Laurent shivered.

“Damen.” Laurent gripped his wrists. “Damen, I want to do something for you, too.”

Damen was shaking his head. He looked hungry. “I want you to feel good,” he said.

Laurent’s hands, still shaking, took themselves away from Damen’s wrists. He shut his eyes. “Yes.”

For all the talking it had taken to get there, Damen ripped down Laurent’s pants, laces and all, and looked happily at Laurent in front of him. He leaned him against the terrace wall and massaged up his right thigh, kissing again his left hip and helping him step out of the pants. He bent low, and kissed up the inside of his left leg, coming higher and higher. He reached out, took a nipple in his right hand and curved his left around Laurent’s back. He kissed Laurent’s tip, and felt Laurent shake.

He licked down the shaft, and up again, and sunk the head in his mouth. He sucked and took Laurent deeper, and receded, and kissed the inside of his thigh again. His right hand came down to touch Laurent’s balls, and he massaged them, and licked again at the tip and down the shaft, and again took Laurent deep into his mouth. He took him in, flicking his tongue over the length, swallowing, pushing his mouth as far as he could, feeling Laurent’s knees shake.

“Damen, I--”

Soon Laurent came, and Damen swallowed zealously. He looked up, shiny and happy. Laurent felt weak. Damen kissed his hips and stomach until Laurent pulled him up.

***

In bed, Laurent drew circles around Damen’s nipple. “Do you remember...after the first summer, when I wanted you to find a different lover?”

Damen took Laurent’s wrist and kissed it. “I remember.”

“I want you to know it was because I didn’t deserve you. Not because I didn’t want you.”

Damen twisted to kiss his husband. “And how could I deserve you?” Damen said softly. He rolled over so Laurent was beneath him. He ran his hands over nipple, ribcage, abdomen. “You are so beautiful...should I show you how much I want you?”

He kissed under his jaw, licking, melting. He kissed over his pulse and sucked on the nerve above the clavicle, delighting in what he knew would bruise and join companions across Laurent’s neck and chest from the nights before. He kissed down over his heart and trailed fingers over ribs and muscles. He bit softly at his stomach, and ran his tongue over the skin.

“Damen.” Laurent’s hands landed in Damen’s curls and he cradled his lover’s head. Damen nipped at his left hip. “Damen, I love you.”

Damen smiled against the skin.


End file.
